The Quell
by HoneyBadger22
Summary: What if the Quarter Quell card hadn't been rigged against Katniss? In honor of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games, to remind the districts that even the rich cannot overcome the Capitol's power, the tributes shall be reaped from a pool of candidates who have never taken tesserae. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor. Slightly A/U but still canon.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I know I've never written a Hunger Games fanfiction, but I'm re-reading the series, I'm on Catching Fire right now, and this idea came to me when I was reading. i have a full-fledged story planned and drafts written, so be sure to follow, favorite, and review your thoughts. XD**

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Announcement**

"Isn't it thrilling?

"Don't you feel so lucky?"

"In your very first year of being a victor, you get to be a mentor in the Quarter Quell!"

I don't respond. As if it wasn't bad enough that we had to watch as two people from every district fight to the death, the Capitol makes a big to-do every quarter century and adds an extra twist to raise the odds of a painful death. It wasn't my prep team's fault, but it annoyed me that they were so chipper about the deaths of future tributes. They didn't notice that I hadn't answered, diving straight back into their conversation. We're winding down the Victory Tour today, and tonight, they will announce the theme of this year's Quarter Quell.

I'm nervous about being a mentor. How can I offer advice to someone who's as good as dead? The District Twelve tributes are almost never capable of survival. Peeta can keep his cool and offer advice as easily as he can speak in front of people. But I'm afraid that when I coach survival skills, that all the painful memories will come rushing back. Glimmer's swollen body. Rue's screams for her life. Peeta's pained expression when he had blood poisoning. Cato's mangled face at the end of the Games.

I open my eyes and try to focus on not letting my mind drift away. I'd almost forgotten the details of arena, but on the day of the Victory Tour, Peeta showed me his descriptive paintings. They were beautiful masterpieces if you focused on the craftsmanship. But if you noticed the common themes depicted in most of the paintings, you would believe Peeta had a twisted, evil mind. It wasn't Peeta, though, it was President Snow. For allowing the Games to happen every year. For supporting and celebrating the unjust murder of children.

When my prep team is finally finished with my hair and makeup routine, Cinna arrives in the stylist's car of the train. I am swept away from my soak in the tub to dry off and put on a simple black dress. It zipped in the back and came up most of my chest in the front, barely touching my knees. To be honest, it was the most comfortable dress attire I've worn since the Games began. Cinna must sense my confusion in his color choice because he answers with a twirl of his hand before I could turn my attention from the mirror.

I spin in a couple of circles on my tiptoes and realize that the dress has the same effect as the one I'd worn for the interviews. But this time, I look like a burning piece of coal in the embers. How fitting that we arrived in District 12 this morning. Peeta and I gave our Capitol-written speeches and respectfully listened as the mayor acknowledged how this was the first time in history that two tributes had simultaneously been brought home to District 12. Tonight, there would be a welcome home party in the town square with music and food. That was all the festivities we needed to be happy. Getting our stomachs full and having a memorable time was all that it took in our district.

Later in the evening, everyone will gather around their television to watch the mandatory broadcast after every Victory Tour preceding the Quarter Quell. President Snow would be on a live broadcast with the Head Gamemaker to present this Quell's new twist. It made my stomach turn in knots just thinking about watching the Games this year. It was hard enough to watch from home, but this year, I will personally know the District Twelve tributes. Talked with them. Mentored them.

I shudder and gear my thoughts toward this evening's welcome home celebration. If all goes well, I won't have to stick around after Mayor Undersee's toast to coming home to District 12. My plan was to slip away silently and mingle as little as possible, but because Peeta wanted to personally thank everyone for their contributions and there were cameras around every corner to exaggerate our romance, I ended up staying until it was time for the announcement of the Quarter Quell.

When we finally arrive back in the Victor's Village, our families gather in Haymitch's house and wait for the symbol of Panem to fade from the screen. After a relatively silent five minutes, the image flickers and the cameras cut to live feed. The audience roars with excitement as the President approaches the microphone to introduce the Head Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee. They shake hands as if to congratulate one another on the success of another Hunger Games. Heavensbee opens the slit on the black envelope with the nation's crest, building suspense with every second.

"In honor of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games," he reads carefully. "To remind the districts that even the rich among us are at the mercy of the Capitol's iron grip, the tributes shall be reaped from a pool of candidates of whom have never taken tesserae." The Capitol audience explodes with exhilaration as the live show cuts to propaganda commercials that are on the air every day.

I feel Peeta tense up beside of me. That must strike a nerve for him, coming from a comparatively wealthy family of District 12. I imagine what I would be feeling if I were an average kid in our district. The answer comes almost immediately. Relief. Who wouldn't be? The majority of District Twelve was poor and underfed, so that meant the tributes would most likely be merchant children. Then I think of Prim and my heart drops. I've never let her take out any tesserae. Her name would be one of the few to go into the reaping balls. This year, it will go in twice.

I turn to find her, but she's already fled the house and I see Peeta slipping out the door as well. There is no one left to save her if her name is called again. I'm not allowed to volunteer and go back into the arena. The odds are most certainly not in our favor.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for reviewing, guys! I also want to remind you to follow and favorite so you can keep up with the story because I'm looking forward to writing the rest of this.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Reaping Day**

It's two o'clock in the afternoon and for the first time in my life, I'm not standing in the center of the square with the other teenagers. I'm sitting in a fancy chair on the stage of the town hall next to Peeta. Haymitch won't be falling off the stage this year because he'll never have to be a mentor again. In a way, I envy him. But I know that in order for another victor to take your place, you have to see several tributes through to the end of the Games. Effie sits next to Peeta in her spring green wig with matching heels and a dress. She's over the moon now that she's had proper victors and can't wait to see who she'll get to escort this year. Of course, everything will go smoother for Effie anyway since Haymitch won't be going to the Capitol this year.

The mayor begins his annual spiel on the history of Panem and the Hunger Games. I tune him out and scan the faces in the crowd for Prim. It worries me that she may be reaped, but it's out of my hands now. I take a deep breath and grasp for Peeta's hand. Just like a year ago in the chariot, Peeta is the only person who can steady me. He gives me a reassuring squeeze of his hand as Effie takes her place at the microphone.

"Welcome, everyone! As you already know, there will be a change in the reaping for the Quarter Quell," Effie begins. "Those who have taken tesserae have been removed from the reaping balls. Ladies first!"

I chew the inside of my lip until I can taste blood in my mouth. I clench my toes and hold my breath until Effie announces the girl's name.

"Lenora Bregel," she chirps. I breath a sigh of relief. After six months of worrying, it isn't Prim. The Peacekeepers surround her and walk her to the stage. Effie is slightly disappointed that there isn't as much excitement with the volunteering as last year.

As the Peacekeepers part from around the girl, I can see her features and it surprises me. She isn't a merchant's child at all, but clearly a girl from the Seam. She has dark hair and light eyes, built small in stature, but in fair shape for living in the Seam. She couldn't have been maybe fourteen years old.

Effie moves on to the boys and is calling the name before I've finished observing the girl I will mentor. I didn't catch the boy's name and whisper to ask Peeta. He doesn't answer, eyebrows raised in skepticism and admiration. I take a look at the boy. I don't know him personally. I've never even been in their clothing shop in town. But I know his name.

Kade Chavers is an eighteen-year-old merchant boy whose parents run a clothing store with outfits our family could never afford. Peeta recognizes him as well. He's probably even spoke to him on occasion.

Effie congratulates the two of them and asks them to shake hands. She even manages to move the audience to a round of applause, a rare occurence at the reaping. But District Twelve stands a good chance of winning the Games this year. I know Kade has the advantage of height and strength. Peeta can surely get him sponsors with those looks. With a flashy entrance and some training, he is definitely a contender.

We all stand for the national anthem and the tributes are herded by Peacekeepers to the back of the Justice Building. Peeta and I sit around for an hour waiting for the tributes to say their goodbyes to family and friends. I remember Peeta's father coming to visit me just to bring me cookies out of the goodness of his heart. It's who Peeta gets his kindness from.

The hour is up soon and I notice a petite blond girl staring at Peeta and I. She must be Prim's age or younger. I smile at her. Her face breaks into an embarrassed grin and she runs off before I can approach her.

Our car carries us, the tributes, and their chaperone, Effie. As we arrive at the train station, there are plenty of cameras for the mentors and escort to pose for and the tributes to gaze at with straight faces.

As soon as I board the train, I go to my bedroom and change out of my tight dress. Not only are frilly clothes unnecessary, they're outright uncomfortable. I dress in something more appropriate and relaxing. A white shirt and simple corduroy jeans.

Now that I am in respectable attire, I go back through the train compartments to the dining car to find the tributes staring motionless at the platters of food.

"The lamb stew for dinner is the best," I say as I take a seat in front of them. "But don't overdo it on the rich food."

They look at me like I'm their saving grace, which really I am from a tribute's point of view. I didn't hit it off with Haymitch right away, but he was my lifeline in the Games. "So, what are your names, again?" I ask.

"Lenora," the girl says quietly. "I'm from the Seam, but my mother sells enough alcohol at the Hob to get by."

"Who's your mother?" I ask. "Do you have any other family?"

She shakes her head. "My father died from pneumonia a few winters ago. Since then, I've helped my mother as much as I can with her white liquor business."

Then it dawns on me who her mother is. I've bought white liquor from Ripper at the Hob for Haymitch in case there's a shortage and he goes into shock again. Her mother is a survivor. She found a way to make money when all other doors were shut. Enough for her daughter to never need tesserae.

I smile sweetly at her and turn my attention to Kade. It feels awkward to be mentoring someone older than yourself. "How about you?"

"Just my parents and my two younger sisters," he replies. "One is sixteen, the other is eleven. We get by running the clothing shop."

Peeta comes into the car, shocked that he is late. "Have I missed anything?" he asks.

"They're just introducing themselves," I answer as he takes a seat next to me. "Kade was just telling me about the shop his family runs."

"Yeah, how are Dreana and Prarie?" he asks.

At this he genuinely smiles. "They're just fine. Prarie practically obsessed over last year's Games. She normally hates them, but when you said you were in love with Katniss at the interview, she couldn't stop watching. Our mother had to let her, of course. She's denied so many of life's small pleasures, we had to allow her to fantisize about District Twelve's star-crossed lovers."

I tensed, knowing that was the exact same thing we'd done to the Capitol's emotions, playing on their sympathies to get food and medicine. I don't really know what to say to a little girl back home overjoyed by watching true love on a screen. That must be the girl I saw at the Justice Building. Fortunately, Peeta breaks the silence.

"We'll just have to all meet her when we get back home," Peeta says, clapping his hand on Kade's arm. Kade gives a weak smile. Peeta is the eternal optimist, always hoping things will turn out just right. This time, he may be right. If the odds are on our side, maybe me and Peeta can bring home someone from District 12.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Capitol**

At the Remake Center, Effie takes the tributes to be cleaned up for their stylists. Meanwhile, Peeta and I ride the elevator to the twelfth floor where we stayed in our Games. As the elevator door opens, the memories on this hall come flooding back. Haymitch and Effie saying their goodbyes to us. Attacking Peeta the night of the interviews. Passing the Avoxes on my way to training.

It's unfair that we have to stay here during the Games. But it's not just this year. We'll spend all of our future summers here on this floor trying to keep a child from District 12 alive. It's like the Capitol's way of paying us back for surviving when their odds were against us. I can think of worse ways to punish us. Other victors have suffered much more than we have if they were not the intended winner. For instance, Finnick Odair, a District 4 victor from a couple of years ago. He was turned into the Capitol's plaything after his Games. Women of the Capitol would flock to him and offer payment in return for a one night stand.

Rumor has it, he caught syphilis after being a prostitute and the Capitol tried to hush it up. Of course with the Capitol's drug's, I doubt it would have taken him long to recover. I also heard a few years ago that he had a girl back home, but that was just petty Capitol gossip, so I didn't really pay attention to it. He would be a mentor this year as well and he wasn't the only one I dreaded meeting.

These are experienced mentors who lived and breathed for the fame in the Capitol. They were legendary and would have no trouble finding wealthy Capitol people to sponsor their tributes simply because they are mentored by a celebrity. Peeta and I could play that to our advantage as well. After all, we won last year and surely the Capitol couldn't have forgotten our tragic love story already. We just needed something to jump-start the hype from last year.

"Peeta?" I ask as we walk through the familiar hallway together. I have his attention, but I'm having trouble asking him for this kind of favor. "You know how we pretended to be in love to, you know..." He nods and I try to continue. "Well, I was...wondering if there's a possibility we can keep one of these tributes alive by doing the same thing?" I trail off toward the end of my question because as hard as this is for me to admit, I am embarassed to even suggest it.

He stares at me for a moment as if debating whether or not he could continue to pretend when he really wanted so much more. I know it's a stretch, but I did what I had to do to survive. I think Peeta understands that, but it doesn't keep him from loving me, caring about me all the same. I'm hopeful and when he manages to bow his head and agree, I'm relieved. I throw my arms around him and he whispers in my ear. "So, when do we start?"

I pause for a moment, unsure of how to begin. Haymitch and Peeta got the ball rolling last year on a live interview and I wasn't sure how we could top that. "How about we make a splashy entrance in the center of the Capitol?" I suggest.

"Sightseeing it is, then," he agrees as he hooks our arms together and we head back down the elevator. Other than the Victory Tour, I've never seen the Capitol outside the Remake Center. Even then, the only thing we got to see was President Snow's mansion. That sounds ungrateful, but it really wasn't as much fun as a party in my honor should've been.

Outside the Remake Center, Peeta asks, "Where to first?" I look around. Everyone is buzzing about their daily business, passing by the Remake Center without a care to the children inside who die for their entertainment. My nostrils flare and I can tell my hateful expression wouldn't look good on camera. But there aren't any cameras here and I should be free to do as I ple— Apparently, I've been too absorbed in my own thoughts to respond and he's asked again. "Katniss? Katniss!"

"Yeah, um, how about we just walk around for a bit?" I offer. I don't really feel like touring old Hunger Games relics or reenacting any of the battles. "You know, we sort of stick out around here."

Peeta laughs good-naturedly and replies, "I suppose we do, but if we had to change, I'm glad we still get to look like ourselves."

By the time we reach the end of the block, people are already pointing and snapping pictures. As we reach the inner-city, there are many people surrounding or following us, but we plow on, hoping to get some real coverage down the street.

Just as planned, reporters from Capitol TV swarm around us to take pictures and interview us. _What's it like to be back in the Capitol? Are you two enjoying being mentors? Any wedding plans, yet? _We pretend to be offended that the Capitol is prying into our relationship and try to fend off the increasing crowd. Now I'm actually regretting proposing this idea because I'm claustrophobic and these people were nearly pressing us against the window of a body piercing shop.

Peeta grabs my hand, not for affection this time, but so we could stick together as the crowd encloses around us. This sends the women into hysteria, only adding to the ruckus. Then Peeta speaks in his commanding, yet comforting way that draws your undivided attention.

"Excuse me, we just wanted to tour the Capitol before the Games started." Some people backed away or simply left at the sight of a large crowd, but the television reporters are unfazed, their questions still on rapid fire.

I don't think we would have made it out without giving a lengthy interview had another victor not accidentally come to our rescue. One of the Capitol citizens at the back of the crowd shouts, "Look, it's Johanna Mason!"

Many of the reporters flood across the street to the District 7 mentor and I thought it was a good a time as any to make a run for it. The few that had stayed were so disoriented by the scene, they are surprised to turn around to find that Peeta and I have already gone.

We fly down the street, running back the way we came. We stop after we rounded a corner a few blocks away, laughing so hard I can barely breathe. Peeta and I practically fall on each other we're having such a good time. Then we hear the clamor again and burst down the street to evade them. The Remake Center is just in sight when I miss the first step down and feel myself being jerked down.

Peeta catches me and yanks me back up before I can topple down the rest of the stairs, but my ankle is on fire.

"You okay, Katniss?" he asks. I want so badly to say yes, but I'm not and Peeta knows it. "We're just a block away from the Remake Center. Just hold on to my shoulder," he says reassuringly.

I wrap my arm around him and clench his shoulder as I limp back to the Remake Center with Peeta as my crutch.

"What's this?" asks Effie as soon as she sees us walk in.

"Katniss sprained her ankle," Peeta explains, offering the short version for my benefit.

"Well, let her sit down!" Effie exclaims. "I'll get an attendant to wrap her ankle and give her something for the pain."

We sit down on a couch in the lobby and I smile with relief. "That was so much fun," I say with a grin.

Peeta smiles and lowers his voice. "I know. I just hope it was enough to work."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for keeping up with my updates! For only posting three days ago, this story has hundreds of views and lots of favorites and follows. Also, if you have any ideas for the Games, review your thoughts, 'cause anything can happen... :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hi, everyone! Unfortunately, I'll only be able to post one more time this week because I'm going with the boy scouts on a summer camping trip. Yes, I said BOY scouts. Yes, I'm a GIRL. Venturing Scouts is a bit difficult to explain... Anyway, here's chapter four!**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Opening Ceremonies**

"Capitol sweetheart, Katniss Everdeen, was spotted early this morning with fellow victor, Peeta Mellark," the Capitol woman announces in her high-pitched patois. The leading line kind of irritates me. Since when was I the Capitol sweetheart? Last I heard, they were going to kill my friends and family if the districts didn't stop their rebellion. "The lovebirds have kept things steady since their last visit here in the Capitol on their Victory Tour and were taking a stroll on the Capitol streets when the press found them."

The television cut to footage of our run-in with the reporters. "They had no response for questions regarding a future marriage or mentorship," the voice-over says, "but claim they were touring the Capitol on their day off, even holding hands while walking along the streets. We're unsure why Katniss is not as elegantly dressed as her counterpart, but we'll expose plenty of details in the mentor interviews coming up this Quell. Katniss and Peeta have been completely silent in the last six months, and the Capitol has nearly stopped buzzing about their relationship. However, with the Quarter Quell coming up, we look forward to seeing a lot of the duo." The video clip ended and the newswoman continues with the story.

"Yes, we'll definitely keep our eye on the District Twelve tributes tonight at the opening ceremonies as this is the first year Katniss or Peeta has served as a mentor," she says. "We'll be sure to keep you updated on any breaking news with these star-crossed lovers." I snatched the remote from my nightstand and turned the TV off. I rolled my eyes and sprung off the bed. The opening ceremonies are in an hour and even though I don't have to be as flawless as last year, I have to be presentable for the Capitol.

They give the mentors free reign over their outfits except for special interviews or presentations when your tribute's stylist becomes your own. This year, Cinna would be my stylist again. In the meantime, I am happy to pick my own clothes. That only lasts a minute or two. When I reach my closet, I find all of the garments to be too frilly or too colorful. I'm used to vivid colors (Peeta's a painter, after all), but these neon shades are sickening to look at. By the time I find something decent, it's nearing six o'clock. My outfit is simple by Capitol standards, but still a bit too elaborate for my liking. I wear a straight, black waistline skirt with a soft orange blazer. It's not awful, but it's still a little constricting like one of Effie's corsets. Unfortunately, there are no such thing as flat, close-toed shoes in the Capitol, so I am left to pick from painful four inch heels with intricate print or plain ones that to my disliking are at least another inch taller.

I choose the shorter, garnished ones, hoping it won't hurt my ankle any more. The throbbing has subsided, but it's still sore to walk on. Time isn't on my side, so I neglect to redo my hair, but the small amount of makeup from this morning is thankfully still intact. Peeta and I share adjacent rooms right across the hallway from each other, but I'm positive he's already downstairs at the Training Center. Why couldn't the girls in the Capitol dress like boys? It would be so much simpler to get dressed, and I'd even get to keep my body hair.

I shake my head in disapproval as I tap the ground floor button. When I arrive in the Remake Center lobby, the twelve chariots are lining up in order of their district, allowing the stylists and mentors to perfect their tributes before presenting them to the Capitol. I head to the end of the line to find Peeta already here as suspected. He's speaking to Lenora, apparently giving her instructions in my absence.

"Sorry I'm late," I apologize. "What's going on?"

Peeta draws a blank when he looks at me and Lenora answers instead. "He said that my angle was going to be friendly and likeable, so I should probably wave and smile to the Capitol citizens on the way through." I nod in agreement. Lenora couldn't pull off arrogance with her small frame and quiet demeanor, sexiness with simple features like my own, or slyness with an apparent honesty to mirror Peeta. He still hasn't said a word and I turn back to him to catch him staring.

"What about Kade?" I ask. "He's going to need an angle as well."

Peeta blushes. "He's a bit like you." I smirk at him, understanding what he means. Last year, when Haymitch couldn't find an angle for me to play, he told me just to tell the truth and hope the Capitol didn't hate me during the interviews. My first thought is to do the same thing as I did and wing it, but it would be boring to watch the same thing two years in a row. I can't stop my smirk from spreading to an all-out grin as I think of an arrangement that will keep the Capitol entertained while pleasing my stubborn, unforgiving nature. Peeta raises his eyebrows in question of my motives.

"I'm thinking he can pull off being like Haymitch," I admit. He's not thrilled with the suggestion, but it's the only way I know of to remedy our problem. There was no time to argue because the trumpets sound from outside and the television screens in the lobby flash to life with the faces of Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman. I ignore their introductions as Peeta and I say goodbye to Lenora. Cinna is finishing up with Kade's costume and he steps on the District 12 chariot just as the announcement rings through the Remake Center lobby that all escorts, stylists, and mentors are to report to a designated area below-ground in the Training Center to watch the ceremony.

There are too many of us to take the elevator, so the forty-eight of us go downstairs by foot. I realize Peeta has only taken his eyes off me once to glance down so he wouldn't miss the first step with his bad leg. I gaze around the Training Center uncomfortably before Peeta speaks. "If you want, I can take them down in the morning," he says. I'm not sure if I've lost my skill at hiding my emotions or if Peeta's just learnt to read me that well in the last few months. I don't respond until we sit down at a round table set up for our district.

"Thanks, this place brings back too many mem-"

"You're beautiful." I look strangely at Peeta for a moment, thinking about his outburst and unaware how long I hold my gaze. "I just didn't see the point of keeping it to myself any longer."

I smile, but stop myself before I say anything. What was I supposed to say? Thank you? Ugh, this is so annoying. Say something, Katniss. Say anything, just form words. In the blink of an eye, a huge screen flashes and shows the District 1 tributes followed by their commentary. I've lost my chance to say anything at all. Then the guilt kicks in. Peeta is so kind to me, and I have no idea how to respond or repay him.

I try to focus my attention to sizing up the tributes, but my stomach sinks even lower. All of the tributes are fairly healthy this year because they've never been on death's door from starvation. The tributes from District 3 are the smallest of them all and I see their mentors give meek smiles of encouragement to show their support from a distance. The District Four tributes are scantily clad in swimming suits and when they reach the inner-city circle, I hear their table cheering and hooting for them. With my short attention span, the next few districts float by. Seven, eight, nine. They're reaching the end of the line and I'm ready for the District 12 tributes to come so we can get this over with. I'm sick of these heels already. Even when I'm sitting down, my ankle is turned at an unnatural angle and the pulsing is starting to come back.

I'm genuinely not paying attention to the competition. Maybe because if I did, I would feel sorry for them when it was time for twenty-three of them to die. It wasn't about just trying to get the kids from District Twelve home, it was being desperate to keep one of them alive because there's a strong possibility they could both be dead in a week. I know why Haymitch turned to liquor now. He went through this twenty-three times before he emerged victorious and I wondered how long it would take us.

Peeta slips his arm around me and I jump a little because I'm surprised. There aren't any cameras around and the other mentors either won't care or they'll think it's an act. He starts to pull away, but I lean back to reassure him that he hasn't stepped over a line yet. I'm actually relieved to have a support because the chairs were designed for style instead of comfort.

I know exactly when it's our district's turn because the crowd collectively takes in their breath. Cinna and Portia have outdone themselves. I hardly noticed Lenora's costume a moment ago, but they are unforgettable now. There are no clothes lit on fire tonight. Cinna is absolutely original in every design.

They don canary yellow clothing alluding to the old phrase 'canary in a coal mine'. Lenora actually fits the image of a small, sweet bird, but the only thing Kade resembles is a caged canary. He's very clearly pissed with the Capitol for being here and I have a feeling I'm going to have fun coaching his interview.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Whew! I can't believe I went that long without writing! Really, I was writing, but it wasn't for this story...I'm publishing an original story on FictionPress! Check out my profile for more details. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Training**

"Up, up, up," Effie chimes. It's going to be a big, big, big day, I finish in my head. "Come on, Katniss, everyone else is up and we're about to start breakfast." I'm normally an early riser, but that's also because I get up early to hunt. When there is nothing important to do and it's unneccessary to be up at the crack of dawn, I tend to sleep in for an hour or two. Peeta offered to take the tributes down to the Training Center and there is nothing for the mentors to do today. "Katniss," Effie chirps repeatedly.

I reach for something to chuck at the door and the first thing my hand grasps is a small alarm clock. The Capitol people set it for when they need to rise earlier than noon and when it rings, it wakes them up. I've never used one, but I hear Effie's small shriek as it hits the door panelling. She doesn't call for me to come to breakfast anymore. I'm awake now, I think sullenly. I might as well get up and make an appearance. I slink over to the door and pick up the tiny, digital clock. Six thirty-nine. I scoff. On a normal day, I would have just slid under the fence and set out on my trek through the woods to check my snares. I don't shoot anything until eight or so, when the animals start to go about their day. I sigh and long for the next time I'll be allowed to roam about the woods as I please. I worry that before long, they'll want Peeta and I in the Capitol full-time. I can't bear to think what I'll do then.

"Katniss," Peeta says. "I know you're up. I need your advice on something." I'm already standing and I open the door almost immediately. He's not facing the door frame, but the hallway to the kitchen. "What was that, Effie? Four seconds?" he calls down the hall, taunting everyone at the breakfast table. I hear Cinna's warble over the laughing of everyone else. They probably bet to see who could get me up the fastest. Effie huffs as I stalk grouchily in the dining room.

"Since today is the first day of training," Peeta says, his facial features relaxing as the laughter dies out, "focus on survival skills. Knot tying, edible plants, that sort of thing. Me and Katniss can teach you some fighting skills, but you'll have to know how to stay alive to use them." At this point, I wish I'd had Peeta as a mentor last year. Of course, Peeta probably couldn't communicate with me as well as Haymitch did, but he's likeable enough to get sponsors and his mind is a lot sharper than Haymitch's.

"Right," I agree. "If you can make it past the initial bloodbath, then we have a good shot at keeping you alive."

"We can't sign pledges from sponsors until the night of the interviews," Peeta explains. "I know it's too early to factor in training scores and interview highlights, but you two have decent odds. If you score high enough to attract attention in training, we'll be able to get more money for your supplies." I nod in affirmation as they take this information in. "Be sure to meet a few other tributes as well. They may give you a second chance in the arena." I can tell he is looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

"The Career Tributes probably won't be interested in associating with anyone else," I say, thinking of how the Career pack was eager to take in Peeta so they could hunt me. "But you'll definitely want someone to watch your back, if only for a little while." Everyone is quiet for the next few minutes, between finishing breakfast and digesting what advice Peeta and I have offered.

"Okay!" Effie says, breaking the silence. "Peeta, if you'll take Lenora and Kade down to the Training Center, Katniss and I can work on strategies for the interviews."

Peeta nods and rises to show them to the elevator. I shift in my seat, knowing Effie will shoot my idea down instantly. Peeta and I made a list on the Victory Tour called Effie's Rules. Rule Number One: Always smile. Rule Number Two: Always be punctual. The list goes on until we reached ten and decided to turn in for the night. Number Ten was always be humble and courteous.

I imagine how Haymitch behaved in his interview. He surely couldn't have been very courteous of the Capitol. I wonder what color Caesar's hair was that year? What were his odds? What was the arena like? I haven't wanted to talk to Haymitch this badly since I was in the Games.

"Alright, Katniss," Effie begins. "Peeta said something about mentoring them separately. I've noticed he's taken a natural initiative with Lenora. Are you okay with mentoring—?" Here's my chance. If I don't tell her now, I won't.

"Kade? Yes, I need to talk to you about his interview strategy," I say. "He's not comical or vulnerable. The only thing he seems to be able to do is be honest. He didn't volunteer for his sister, so I don't think the Capitol will be interested in the truth. I was thinking he could be a fighter, a bit like Haymitch, really." I don't know why I threw that last part in, but it doesn't seem to effect Effie. It's clear she hasn't made a decision yet. I can't blame her. Haymitch is spunky, rude, and careless—everything Effie isn't.

"Effie, how well did Haymitch do in his interviews?" I'm trying to persuade her that if Haymitch could get enough sponsors to win, his personality may not have been a bad thing. "He probably wasn't considered a stellar tribute, but the Capitol must've liked his attitude for him to win."

"If you're suggesting that he acts a pig in front of—"

"Look, I'm not saying he needs to fall off the stage or anything, but he's not happy to be here, and it shows," I say. "We should at least not force him into a persona. It clearly didn't work for me. You remember how much trouble Haymitch had. He gave up!" She takes a deep breath and flutters her fuchsia eyelashes. "Okay." It's not quite acceptance, but it's an agreement.

We couldn't have two tributes that were any more different. Their acts would be completely opposite. One friendly young girl, eager to be here, and one cold young man, who despised being here with all of his being.

"Peeta!" Effie cries suddenly. "Peeta, what's wrong?"

I whip around to see Peeta stumbling out of the elevator, shuffling over to us. I stand and rush to help him sit down. There's blood covering his mouth, spurting from his nose. "What happened?" I demand, feverishly wiping the blood away from his face. I tilt him forward and hand him a handkerchief from the table. If the blood rushes backward, he won't be able to breathe and it will fill his lungs.

"Brutus," he mumbles through the cloth.

* * *

**A/N: AAH! Cliffhanger! Thank you all for reading! If you enjoyed, please take a minute or two to tell me what you thought. xD Have a good night, all! And don't forget to drop by my profile!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you guys for the kind feedback! Your reviews are much appreciated! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Interviews**

"Is there anything you _can_ do?" I growl.

"Katniss," Cinna warns. "He's got quite a shiner. You can't just cover it up. There's nothing I can do—well, there's a Capitol operation to set his nose straight, but that defeats the purpose of no one knowing."

"It's been three days!" I exclaim. "His nose is green! Yesterday, it was blue! And you're telling me there's no fancy Capitol makeup that will fix it for _one night_? I'm sick of the press and the stupid rumors and the questions! Do you know what this will do to the Capitol media? To us?"

"Listen, if we cover it up with makeup, the bruise looks worse and more...colorful, for the lack of a better term," he answers. "Just calm down. It should be gone by the time the Games start and you two get real publicity."

I glare at him. I'm not truly mad at Cinna, but I have to vent my anger to someone besides Peeta. He's coaching Lenora through interview content at the moment, and I thought this would be a good time to panic. Since we're coaching Lenora and Kade separately, we only have to work for half of the day. I spent the morning coaching Kade while Effie had Lenora for presentation. We took a break for dinner, and I have free time until the tribute interviews tonight. Fantastic. More time to worry what will happen when the Capitol fans find out Peeta was slugged in the face.

I have to say, Peeta's taken it pretty well compared to me. I've freaked out since the moment he stumbled through the elevator doors with blood covering his mouth. Effie can argue that it's my "mothering nature" all she wants, but it's not because of a protective instinct. It's more of an animal instinct from the Games. Like my nightmares have come to life. I think seeing Peeta suffer so badly in the arena gave me a psychological need to defend him from everything else. If everything else means a six-foot tall, two-hundred pound, arrogant bastard from District Two, that's fine by me.

Brutus is one of those victors who flaunts their influence. I've never personally met him, but he seems like the type even the Capitol doesn't try to push around. Well, he was strong enough to stay out of the prostitution ring, anyway. Peeta and I are the lucky ones. I may not feel very lucky, but we are fortunate to have each other. We are both desirable enough to be sold, and I can't imagine what tragedy my life would be now if I had won the Games alone.

There were a few mentors who writhed out of the Capitol's reach, but they are few and far between. An old woman from Four, most of the victors from Three, the pair from Eleven, and the girl from Seven. Even those who escaped selling their bodies were scarred by the Capitol in other ways. District Four's Annie Cresta went mad after her time in the arena, but was still forcibly held in the Capitol on occasion for reasons beyond our small television screen in District 12.

At any rate, Peeta told us the full story after his nose stopped bleeding. After checking the tributes in, he headed back to the elevator and Brutus snatched him before he could make it. I'm not entirely sure why he went after Peeta, though. It looks like the other victors would have it out for me, not him. What has Peeta done to them? I've stolen their limelight, whether I wanted it or not, and forced a rule change in the Hunger Games. Peeta has done nothing against anyone.

Cinna draws me out of my thoughts and tells me to find the prep team so I can get ready for this evening. Right. They're speeding things up this year. The stylists don't have a day for themselves to work with the tributes. I've almost forgotten how long it takes them to prepare me for Cinna. Plucking my eyebrows, scrubbing my face, applying makeup and body shimmer; things I would never do if it weren't for the Capitol's insistence.

By the time they are finished with me, it is seven o'clock. In an hour, all television screens in Panem will be turned on to watch the tribute interviews. Cinna arrives and the prep team vanishes out the door.

"Okay," Cinna says. "I think you're going to like this." He produces a yellow dress from the closet and it looks familiar. It's the dress I wore at the victor interview, but it's different somehow. "I've altered it so it doesn't have the padding from after the Games. It's shorter, I know, but it has less frills," he explains. "I chose it because of our theme at the opening ceremonies."

Canary yellow. Yes, it was the right color, but it still luminates and flickers. I am still the girl on fire. I put on the dress and stand in front of the mirror. I am not as radiant as the sun anymore. I glow like a dandelion in the spring.

"Thank you, Cinna," I whisper.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he replies. He doesn't use the nickname to make fun of me like Haymitch. He is genuine in saying it. "I think you're going to like the shoes even better."

I snort in disbelief. After the contraptions I wore a few nights ago, I don't believe I can ever like shoes again. I am wrong. It turns out the Capitol does make flat, close-toed shoes. I fling my arms around Cinna. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," I say.

"I told you so," Cinna says. "Now, let's get down to the auditorium. I believe Effie's escorting the tributes and their prep teams down."

We leave the dressing room and head to the elevator where we meet up with Peeta and Portia. As soon as the elevator doors open, we head to the theater, built onto the other side of the Training Center. There are already a line of mentors trying to fit through the doors. We hassle our way through and part ways, Portia and Cinna going to the stylists' wing while Peeta and I find our seats next to the District Eleven mentors.

I am glad for an opportunity to talk to them. Kade said this morning that he wants to team up with their tributes. He says they aren't conceited, but they are fierce and would make for good allies. But all the seats in the building are filled and the lights dim before I can say anything.

The trumpets blare and Claudius Templesmith introduces Caesar. The audience is in a frenzy when he turns in his chair, sporting a fiery orange hairstyle.

The camera pans over the stylists painted with glitter and outrageous colors and then flashes to the row of escorts. Finally, it's our turn. District 1's pair, Cashmere and Gloss; Two, Brutus and Lyme; I don't recognize Three's mentors; Four, Finnick and Mags; Five and Six's mentors are both unrecognizable Morphlings; Seven, Johanna and Blight; just like the opening ceremonies, Eight, Nine, and Ten drift together; Eleven, Seeder and Chaff; and us, the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve. I thrust my head high and smile triumphantly, tightly clutching Peeta's hand beneath the view of the camera. This is the first time the Capitol has caught a glimpse of Peeta's injury, and it will no doubt be headlining tomorrow's news. It lingers on us a little longer than the other mentors and I'm anxious for it to turn away.

"What an introduction to such a spectacular night!" Caesar Flickerman roars. "Good evening, everyone! If you haven't noticed, there's a trend here in the Capitol!" he says good-naturedly, motioning to his hair. "And it all started at last year's interviews with the girl on fire! She was a tribute, a victor, and now a mentor in the Quarter Quell. Katniss Everdeen!"

This only gives the cameras an excuse to show more of us. I pretend to laugh and wave at the camera. Caesar expertly redirects the small-talk conversation. "It's nice to have you back in the Capitol, Katniss! Now, are you excited to meet this year's tributes? We've heard all about them! Two scores of ten in training! Can you believe it? Well, let's kick off the night with District One's female tribute! Volunteer, Emerald Shields!" She struts onto the stage in a flamboyant white gown with extravagant silver jewelry, sparkling even at this distance. Luxury.

"Now, Emerald," Caesar says as they take their seats. "Tell me, did you prepare to volunteer at the reaping?"

"Yes, Caesar, I did," she answers enthusiastically. "It's an honor to be here."

"I'm sure it is!" Caesar responds. "The odds are in your favor, Miss Shields. How about that ten in training? Hmm?"

"Oh, that," she says casually. "Yes, I'm partial to spears, but I've learnt to throw a knife this week as well!" Caesar throws back his head and laughs. As if this is funny, I think bitterly. That's the highlight of the interview. She's a typical District One; femme fatale, dangerous, lethal, and attractive enough to get piles of sponsor money.

Caige, the boy from One, is just as formidable. I begin to make a mental note of the competitors. It's about time I start learning the enemy. Lorcan and Sage, from District 2, are the other half of the Career pack. Brutal and strong, all four of them are volunteer tributes. Apparently, we have six volunteers this year. The Careers, the girl from Four, Oceana, and the boy from Six, Asher.

The night wears on and the acts jumble together. A few tributes have stood out, though. Despite having mentors on morphling, the tributes from Six, Candis and Asher, are in fair shape. The boy from Seven, the girl from Nine, and both of the tributes from District Eleven, Magnolia and Basil. Finally, it is our district's turn.

"We may be nearing the end of the night, but let's not forget about our tributes from District 12!" Caesar toys with crowd. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and sink lower in my seat. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lenora Bregel!"

"Good evening, Lenora," Caesar says.

"Good evening, Caesar!" Lenora replies.

"Now, tell me, are you prepared for the Games?" he asks. She nods with enthusiasm. "I imagine you would be with a seven in training! Quite a score for a girl of your age," Caesar remarks.

"Thank you," she says kindly. "But I am not weak."

Caesar feigns surprise. "Of course you aren't. Do tell, have you any close relatives back home?"

"Only my mother," says Lenora. "My father died of pneumonia during a bad winter, and I don't have any siblings." The Capitol audience is already paying attention to her likable, relatable nature, cooing in sympathy at her story. "I'm going to try to win for her. She took care of me when times were hard. It's my turn to take care of her."

If the Capitol liked her before, they're in love with her now. I turn to look at Peeta and he's grinning with a sly smile. "Her idea," he muses. "I just ran with it."

Caesar ends the interview shortly after that and introduces our next tribute, Kade Chavers. He smiles into the crowd as he strides to his seat, but it is not friendly. It is cunning and calculating.

"How are you, Kade?" Caesar asks politely, generating an easy conversation.

"I'm fine," he answers flatly. "How are you?" It's forced. I can tell it still isn't coming natural to open up.

"I'm fantastic!" Caesar says brightly, adding emotion to the interview. He can always draw out the best in people. I hope he can help the Capitol citizens to see the best of Kade. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've tied for the top score in training with a _ten_," he says.

"Yes, Caesar, I have," he responds.

"I'm impressed."

"Thank you," Kade says. I can tell he's thinking sarcastically, _Well, you should be._ And I agree. The Capitol should be impressed with every one of these tributes for who they are, not because some personality made up by their mentor.

"Any alliances?" questions Caesar.

"A few," Kade replies as if it's an offhand comment. "Let's just say I won't be dealing with District One or Two." He's marking himself as a rebel, a target for the Career tributes. The audience is impressed by his demeanor, not arrogant, but unafraid of a challenge. He's asking for a fight from the Careers. That's okay with me, though.

If everything goes to plan, the District Twelve tributes will team up with District Eleven to fight the Career pack.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I can't thank you enough for all the feedback I'm getting. I've never published such a successful story in this short amount of time, and I appreciate all of your support. When school starts back, I won't have nearly as much time to write because I'll be taking high school AND college classes, but I promise that I WILL finish this story. xD**

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Arena**

"Any last words of advice?" Kade asks. I shake my head. I've told him everything I can think of. "Thank you, Katniss," he says. "Goodbye." As I hug him, I realize this may be the last time I will ever see him face to face.

"Good luck," I whisper as the first tears start to fall out. I wasn't this emotional at my own Games. "I'll keep you safe."

"I know you will," he says. Maybe that's what scares me. That he believes in me, he's counting on me to keep him alive when we both know how slim the odds of survival are.

Next, I say my goodbyes to Lenora. It's even more depressing because I know that I'll never see both of them standing here together again. Peeta is still tightly embracing her when I wish her luck. I suddenly feel sorry for Peeta. Being the youngest of three boys, Lenora is the closest thing he has ever had to a little sister, and the Capitol is taking her away. I know exactly how he feels. He would go back in the arena to protect her if he could, just as I volunteered for Prim. Effie tells us it's time to part ways and that the tributes need to go downstairs to be delivered to the arena. As the elevator door shuts, I lose whatever it was keeping me together.

"They won't come back together, Peeta," I sob. He patiently puts his arms around me, saying nothing as I cry. "What if they don't come back at all?" I ask weakly. That's what is really on my mind. What if Peeta and I can't keep either of them alive? Will I be able to go home and face the people of District Twelve again? I would give anything to be in the woods now, with nothing to concentrate on but filling my game bag. I didn't expect for Peeta to say anything in return, so it shakes me when I feel his warm breath on my ear.

"Katniss," Peeta says shakily. "We lived. Whoever dies today or tomorrow or ten years from now matters, but don't feel guilty for surviving."

"That's just it, Peeta," I argue. "What is the point of living when everyone you love is dying—?" Not everyone I love is gone. I still have Prim. And Gale. Grudgingly, I still love my mother. Here in the Capitol? The only person I have who truly cares about me, that loves me, is Peeta. He's cared for me long before I noticed him, selfless without question. He gives me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before we step into the elevator.

I'm too dazed to do anything but press the button for the first floor. Somewhere on the way down, Peeta runs his hand across my cheek to wipe the tears from my eyes and brushes a strand of loose hair away from my face._ You could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him,_ I hear Haymitch's voice echo in my mind. _You could do a lot worse_. I don't know if I could do any better. I stare into those steady blue eyes. In this moment, I don't know how I've put off admitting that for so long. I stand up straighter and peck him on the lips. "Thank you," I whisper. I know the next few weeks will be rough, but the only way we'll get through it is together.

He opens his mouth as if to say something when the elevator doors open. We step outside the Remake Center for the first time in days, and find the District Twelve car that will take us to the Gamemaker Headquarters. We ride in a nervous silence running high on tense emotions.

When we arrive at headquarters, reporters swarm our vehicle asking questions. As I assumed, they want to know what happened to Peeta's nose. Right. Like it was scandalous that a victor of the Hunger Games still bruises. One of their news channels suggested last night that I hit him and that's why we won't talk about it. I'm too irritated to be answering questions like this and I push my way through the crowd, making room for Peeta as well.

My first thought of headquarters is that it is extremely misleading. There are small fountains of water surrounding the room with a cello in the corner. I imagine when someone plays it, this room is the most serene in the Capitol. It's quite peaceful for a place where children's creative deaths are plotted.

The next room is where we will watch the Games from. Like our office for the next two weeks. It has several television screens with a small number twelve on the corners, records of the tribute's odds, and sponsorship forms. I jump in my seat as the screens flash on to show Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman.

"Welcome to the Third Quarter Quell!" Claudius pips. "We will be hosting and giving you extensive information to what is happening here in the Capitol!"

"That's right, Claudius!" Caesar exclaims. "There's no place better to get caught up on Hunger Games news than here!" As if we have a choice. It is mandatory for everyone to watch. Suddenly, all of the other screens flicker on too. "Welcome, everyone!"

"May the 75th Annual Hunger Games...begin!" Claudius shouts. The sixty seconds gives me time to survey the arena. It is modeled after a town from before the Dark Days. The Cornucopia is placed in the center of the square, and surrounding it are four concrete roads leading north, east, west, and south. There is a chapel toward the east, a courthouse in the west, an ice-cream shop in the south, and a ragged sign reading Fire Dept. off the north.

_Forty-two, forty-one. _It's a dreadfully small arena, and I hope Kade understands this means he needs to go inside one of the buildings for shelter. It's a replica of an old city, so that means no natural food or water. I make a mental note to spend the first of the sponsor money on his supper tonight and a canteen of water to sustain him.

To his right is the girl from District Three, Elektra, and to his left is Sage, the girl from Two. He'd better run fast. That girl isn't the only one out for his blood. _Ten, nine. _I inspect the supplies in the Cornucopia. They're mostly weapons. I can sense that the Gamemakers want to see the tributes starve to death this year.

_Three, two, one._ Kade steps off the stand and darts for the Cornucopia. He is one of the first to get there and grab a backpack and a blade. I sigh in relief. There will most likely be enough food in that pack to hold him for a day or so. I see him eye a Peacekeeper's assault rifle. This is the first time I have ever seen a firearm in the arena. I will him not to go for it. For one, it will take him longer to get out of the bloodbath. The weapon is useful and deadly, but it will sound off where he is every time he fires it.

Suddenly, a knife whirls past his ear and he jerks around to be pinned to the ground by Emerald. For just learning to throw this week, she is deadly accurate. Fortunately, he is physically stronger than her and is able to throw her off of him and make a run for a building.

I look at Peeta's screen to learn that Lenora isn't faring as well. She's fighting vehemently, but her strength is fading against Micah, the boy from Four. Even I am shocked when a curved sword runs through him from behind. A hand is extended, and I realize that Kade has just saved her life.

"We're allies, right?" Kade asks. Lenora nods and accepts his offer as he drags her to her feet. "We need to find Eleven."

"Over there," she says urgently. pointing to Magnolia. She's earned herself a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows, and she seems to be a good shot. The first arrow hurdles through the boy from District Nine, and I hear a canon. Kade was right about wanting her for an ally.

Magnolia is tall and willowy with dark skin like the rest of District Eleven. Her long, black hair is tied down her back, now held in place by her quiver. Kade approaches her as quickly as he can. She whirls around, arrow already lodged and ready to fire. His hands are raised and she slowly loosens her grip. They have made a silent agreement. Allies.

The Careers have raided the Cornucopia by now and are making headway in killing the remainder of people who haven't ran for cover. I hear two more canons. Magnolia holds a finger to her lips and rushes to a building in the south end, Kade and Lenora hurriedly following behind her.

"Basil?" she calls loudly, once they are inside.

"Mag?" he asks. "What are they doing here?"

"I brought some allies," Magnolia answers. "The Careers are still plucking the Cornucopia for survivors and we had to make our way out quickly."

"How did you know he would be here?" Lenora asks.

"I saw him duck in here before the fighting started," she responds. "_Without _even getting a weapon. Well, we probably need to start stockpiling our supplies. What have you guys got?" Magnolia gestures at Kade and Lenora.

Kade opens his backpack to inspect it's contents. A pocketknife, some crackers, a bottle of water, and a blanket. He's made out fairly well. Lenora has a pair of throwing knives attached to her hip. She's not as lethal as Emerald with them, but she put up quite a fight with Micah, so I'm hoping they will come in handy.

"Not bad," Magnolia murmurs.

"We need to be allies," Kade says plainly. "The four of us."

"And why's that?" Basil asks, his voice raising in suspicion.

"Because we're going to kill the Careers," he answers. Magnolia lifts her eyebrows in question. No one has ever formed an anti-Career pack. No one has ever had enough nerve to question it, but this year will be different. This year, the Careers will know what it is like to be hunted down.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hi, again! I promise I'm not on hiatus, but my updates aren't going every couple of days. :( Alas, I've started school, so the dreaded long update time is upon us. Now! On to the story...**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Getting Sponsors**

"_Thirty-six?" _I ask in disbelief. "Peeta, are you joking? You were only there an hour. How did you do it?"

He shrugs and replies, "They're practically tripping over themselves."

"Peeta, that's fantastic! Wait—what are you doing here?"

His eyes glinted and told me the answer. This was the perfect chance for us to be seen together in public, and since Peeta did so well this morning, there would be no pressure to reach a certain amount of money. I looked back at the screen one last time. It was early morning in the arena, so the tributes were still sleeping, but here in the Capitol, it had been daylight for hours. I suppose the Gamemakers had to do this because of how late people in the Capitol rise.

Unfortunately for the mentors, it meant staying up half the night and getting about two hours of sleep. Peeta and I alternated keeping watch last night and got maybe four or five hours of rest between us. This was going to get really tiring by the end of the Games. A cold chill goes up my spine. We won't be doing this until the end of the Games. They had to have their victor this year, right? What if our punishment for winning together was mentoring dead tributes for the rest of our lives?

"C'mon on, Katniss," he said. I follow him to the lobby, where each district has a booth for donations from the public. I've always imagined that it would just be a desk with two chairs on each side where wealthy Capitol people could slide money across the table, but it was a lavishly decorated and made for a homey feel.

Almost immediately, a woman with blue shimmery skin approaches us. "Oh, _there _you are!" she exclaims, her shiny cyan lips forming an O. "I want to sponsor District Twelve this year!" Peeta and I glance at each other.

"Okay," Peeta replies, pulling a pencil from a nearby clipboard on the table near the love seat we're sitting on. "How much would you like to donate?" he asks.

"Whatever you need," she replies haughtily. "Here's my financial information." She produces a crisp, white piece of paper from her purse and stands to leave. Peeta's mouth is hanging open and I imagine I'm having a similar reaction.

"Miss—don't you think—I mean—," Peeta stumbles. She smiles and walks away.

"That was generous," I say in an awestruck daze. "We have a limitless amount of money, can we go back now?" I ask. How wealthy must you be to give your money to a dead man? Peeta and I will live, I'm sure. The Capitol wouldn't dare kill their sweethearts. It will only be a matter of time before we're forced to take our relationship further, but for these Games at least, we're safe. Lenora is who I am concerned for. If Kade didn't want to take out the Careers so desperately, would she even be alive at all? If she weren't an asset to killing off his enemy?

"Not just yet," Peeta said. "We need to mingle, make sure everyone sees us."

He grasped my hand and we strolled around from booth to booth, occasionally waving at a Capitol citizen. They were complete strangers, but they went berserk thinking that Peeta and I somehow remembered them.

"_Really_?" Johanna Mason asks irritably as we pass District Seven's station.

"Yes," I reply quietly. "Publicity for the Games. President Snow's idea."

Her eyes light up with excitement. "Make him pay for it," she answers, and turns away to busy herself with something else.

After that, Peeta and I hastily make our way back to our office. I can tell Peeta's offended by my explanation to Johanna, but I don't press and act as though nothing's amiss. We sit in silence, watching as a few tributes wake up for the first time in the arena.

"So we're forced, now?" Peeta asks suddenly, breaking the silence. I turn to face him when I see he's holding back angry tears. His blue eyes are so hurt and vulnerable, I can't help but apologize instantly. For the first time, I feel guilty about how I explained our outing. Sure, neither of us were concerned with lying about President Snow, but I acted like it wasn't my choice to be with Peeta. "Wasn't this your idea to begin with?"

"Yes—look, Peeta, I'm sorry," I say. "It's not fair for me to use you—I won't anymore if you're uncomfortable with it, but I thought you understood that this is for show."

"You know what? Maybe you're right, Katniss!" he says bitterly. "I know that it's all for the cameras! None of it's real! It's all to keep the districts happy. To make the Capitol happy. To get money to keep kids alive. But what you don't understand is that my happiness counts, too! Yes, I agreed to do this. I know that none of it matters to you..., but you can't keep leading me on just to shut me down again."

I haven't felt this bad since I was scolded as a child. I just nod and sink lower in my seat as I turn to watch the screen again. Peeta's still upset and now I feel badly about how I've acted. Wasn't this just supposed to be for publicity? I ask myself. We were never _actually_ in love, anyways. But I knew Peeta was. Ugh. My stupid conscious. That small voice at the back of my head that let me know when I'd done something wrong.

I excuse myself to go get some water and leave the room. Here in the Capitol, you drink from small fountains attached to the wall. It was a strange concept for me to grasp at first, but I can see how easily accessible water would benefit the public. It would definitely have been useful in the arena.

"Want a sugar cube?" a familiar, sultry voice asks. I whip around hurriedly in distrust. "Come on, we're all in the same boat together. Trying to see one of our teammates through to the end. Even if they die, all that's left is the mentors at the end of the day, trying to pick up the pieces and not get their hopes up again."

I slowly reach my hand out and accept his peace-offering. "Well, are you not going to eat it?" Finnick Odair asks. I lift the sugar cube to my mouth and swallow it. The sweetness explodes across my mouth and down my throat, coating it in a sticky splash. "So, what do you say? Allies?" he offers.

"Why should I trust you?" I ask immediately. It may be rude and forward, but it _is_ the pressing question.

"Trust me," he says. "If I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already."

"Thanks," I respond sarcastically. "I'll keep that in mind. Who are your tributes, again?"

"I guess we don't make an entrance as well as Twelve, do we?" he remarks. "Oceana and Micah. Micah is talented, but ultimately doesn't have the guts to kill anyone. Oceana, on the other hand, is a hot ticket. Now, let's face it, your little anti-Career charade won't last long in the arena. You're going to need help to do some damage. What do you think?"

District Eleven is plenty lethal, and Kade is just as fiery as I am. He's talking about Lenora. That she'll be killed quickly if she goes without protection in the arena. And he's offering that protection. He knows that if Lenora dies, Peeta will never forgive the Capitol. Or himself. He knows that I will do anything in my power to prevent it from happening. Finnick sees the gears turning in my mind, and I hear an "okay" slip my mouth.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the control room," I say quickly as I start to stride away from him.

"Wait—didn't you come to the water fountain to get water?" Finnick asks, but I'm already running toward the nearest bathroom.

I slam the stall doors open as I storm past them. _Why_ am I _so_ impulsive? I haven't thought of Peeta's opinion at all today; I don't think I can bear going back to face him. I slide down the wall and put my head in my hands. What have I done?

* * *

**A/N: Hello! So, my sister started a FanFiction account, and I'm going to try and get her as much traffic as possible by letting you guys know. Her penname is TheMustangGirl and she will have a story out in the next month, so PLEASE go follow her. I've read her work and I promise you WILL be amazed. ****If you have any questions or comments, please PM me! **

**Thank you for sticking around! I hope you'll take a moment to drop by and leave a review!**

**HoneyBadger22**


End file.
